


some things just make sense and one of those is you and i

by frostbitten



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M, Starbucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 19:04:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4576224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostbitten/pseuds/frostbitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh, Sousuke-kun, you don’t need to ask. It’s obvious that you have a crush on me. That’s why you’re in here all the time, isn’t it?” Kisumi winked at him. Sousuke choked on air. “Relax, I’m kidding! Everyone who’s ever seen you interact with Kou-chan for more than five seconds knows that you’re smitten.”</p><p>“It’s not that obvious,” Sousuke argued.</p><p>“Yesterday you walked right into the door because you were too busy looking at Kou-chan to remember to open it,” Kisumi countered, and the reminder of that made Nagisa laugh so hard he doubled over. Sousuke’s entire face turned the colour of a tomato.</p>
            </blockquote>





	some things just make sense and one of those is you and i

**Author's Note:**

> This is my take on a SouKou coffeeshop AU for my dear friend Ana (@kagekens on twitter). It's cheesy as hell. I love it. I also owe Rosa (rosaveritas) credit for brainstorming with me and allowing me to steal some of her ideas.

After working at Starbucks for over six months, Kou could say with full confidence that nothing was too complex for her anymore. She could make all of the drinks on the menu with ease (she’d take the fact that she forced the manager, Kisumi, to help her practice doing so after hours to her grave), she could deal with irate customers faster than Kisumi could flirt with a cute girl (which was very fast—Kou could vouch for that, but really, anyone who’d known him for more than five minutes could attest to his penchant for it), and she could practically do stock inventory in her sleep. She didn’t make beginner’s mistakes; she was too professional for that. So it was with great embarrassment that she dropped the strawberry cream frappuccino she had made as soon as the man who ordered it walked up to the counter.

“You alright?” His voice was husky, definitely not the kind of voice she’d expect from someone who ordered a strawberry cream frappuccino…but neither was the rest of him. He was impossibly tall with a chiseled jawline (but everything else was pretty defined, too), soft-looking black hair, and eyes that were so intensely blue-green they looked teal.

“Yes,” she said, scurrying into the back to locate a mop and a bucket of water. Kou made quick work of cleaning the puddle of liquid that was more sugar than coffee—not that she had any room to judge, she’d never taken her coffee black a day in her life—and began making his replacement drink. She thrust the frappe into his hands, not meeting his eye.

“This isn’t the size I ordered,” he said, cocking an eyebrow. She flushed. _He must think I’m a total idiot._

“I gave you a bigger size to make up for my mistake and the time you had to wait because of it,” she stammered, adding “on the house!” as an afterthought. He smiled lopsidely at her and it was only long after he’d left that Kou realized she’d never gotten his name as she’d been too busy hurriedly remaking his drink to remember what the cashier had said to her. With great difficulty she managed to ignore Nagisa’s choked laughter and Kisumi’s obnoxious winking and worked diligently for the rest of her shift, rushing home as soon as her work day finished so they couldn’t interrogate her about her mistake.

The next time he came in she handled herself with much more dignity. She made his order (a venti strawberry cream frappuccino and two croissants) efficiently and penned his name neatly on the coffee cup. Sousuke suited him very well, she thought, sneaking a glance at him. To most, he would just look like he was stuck in a particularly vivid daydream, but she could see how his eyes were glazed over and the way he was hunched in on himself. It reminded Kou of her brother after he came home from Australia and it hurt her heart to see someone in so much pain, even if it was someone she didn’t know. She peeked at him again to be sure he wasn’t looking her way. He wasn’t. Quickly, she wrote “the dusk is darkest before dawn” underneath his name and added a smiley face for good measure.

“Sousuke,” she called, and he snapped out of whatever he’d been thinking of to give her his thanks and a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

He came in next a week later, ten minutes before they closed, soaking wet from the storm outside and with a bruise blossoming across his cheek. Kou scrawled a hasty “to live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering” in small but still legible letters on the cup and handed it to him. “Here you are, Sousuke-san.” He grunted out what might have been a “thank you” and left, the puddles that still remained where he’d stood the only proof he’d ever been there at all.

He wasn’t back the following week. Kou wondered why that stung so much. She threw herself into her work and her online classes and even went on a blind date (her date brought a stag beetle along and she’d excused herself immediately after he tried to set it free in the restaurant), but she still felt unbalanced.

Sousuke returned a week after that with a brace on his shoulder and a light in his eyes. He relayed his drink order to Nagisa, who in turn hollered it to Kou, which was completely unnecessary because she had been standing a scant two yards away from him.

“This is why we aren’t friends,” she said, scowling at him.

“Then why are we wearing matching friendship bracelets?” He winked at her, evading her answering pinch.

“Go do your job or I’ll tell Rei-kun you have a crush on him.”

“So _rude_ , Gou-chan!” He wailed, throwing a hand over his heart in mock anguish. Long used to Nagisa’s antics, Kou ignored him and began making Sousuke’s drink. Today she wrote “be believing, be happy, don't get discouraged. Things will work out.” on his cup. It was something she wished someone would tell her when she was having trouble believing it herself, so she hoped he wouldn’t find it too hokey, or worse, unbearably intrusive.

“Sousuke!” He gave her a small wave and smiled lopsidedly at her. Her heart dashed itself against the inside of her ribcage and her hands felt sweaty. Oh no.

“Thank you,” he paused and squinted at the nametag on her chest. “Gou.”

Normally she would have corrected him immediately, but something about the way her name sounded coming from his mouth had her turning the colour of her hair. “You don’t need to thank me; I’m just doing my job.” He raised his eyebrows in lieu of a verbal response and she bit her lip. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for that to sound so rude! I—”

He shrugged. “I’ve heard worse, from complete strangers, nonetheless.”

“But aren’t we complete strangers?”

“We’re on a first name basis now, aren’t we?” He looked completely serious, but his eyes were laughing.

Kou nearly choked on her own spit. “Yes, well.”

“See you next week, Gou.”

True to his word, Kou did see him a week later. She left him a quote on his cup like usual and they chatted for about ten minutes before they realized he was holding both her and the line behind him up. His embarrassed blush turned the tips of his ears pink and he sheepishly hurried out of the Starbucks and into the adjoining mall.

The next few months passed in much the same way, except Sousuke began to show up two times a week, then three, then finally he was ordering every other day and Kou had exhausted her extensive quotes library. She learned he was a mechanic and an only child and in this spare time he played guitar, while he was regaled with tales of Rin and the shenanigans the Matsuoka siblings used to get up to and what they both did now.

“So your favourite artist is Marina And The…Diamonds?” He struggled a bit with the pronunciation and Kou stifled a laugh.

“Yeah! She’s an English artist. I found out about her from my brother, but he swears that he’s never heard of her before. He doesn’t want to admit to liking her because that would ‘emasculate’ him. Boys,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Boys,” he echoed, the vaguest of plans taking shape. He would need assistance as well as permission from her coworkers. “Hey, I won’t be in for the rest of the week. I have something I need to do.”

“Oh.” Kou frowned but quickly masked it with a grin. “Well, if you find yourself needing help or company, you know my number. I don’t work tomorrow, anyway.”

“Mhm.” He felt guilt pool in his gut. It wasn’t a total lie, per se; he really did have something to do, but he would be going back in tomorrow to talk to Kou’s manager without her around. After a few more minutes of awkward chitchat, Sousuke said his goodbyes and made his way home, where he parked himself at his computer and stared resolutely at the chords to the song he planned on learning. It didn’t seem too complicated, thankfully, and he’d jammed out to it in his room enough times that he could probably play it by ear. He brought his guitar out from its case (it was a Gibson and he took care of it like it was his child) and strummed it experimentally. The tuning was still balanced and he smiled, pleased. The only thing he was really worried about was the pronunciation. English was hard for him, always had been, and he didn’t want to stutter and stumble through his performance.

“I wanna be your vac…vacuum cleaner?” He tried. It sounded close enough to the singer’s pronunciation, but what the hell did that even really mean?

It was past midnight when Sousuke finished translating the song. He’d liked it before he knew what the lyrics meant; it was catchy and the rich drawl of the singer was what had hooked him on the band initially, but he’d gained a new appreciation for the song after understanding its meaning. It spoke volumes about hidden feelings and the devotion and willingness to be anything the recipient of your affection needed, and he thought he could relate to that. He wanted to show just how much Kou her coffee cup quotes meant to him and how much the young woman herself had grown on him—he had never thanked nor even acknowledged the quotes to her, and it was beyond time to rectify that, but he needed sleep first.

He woke up around seven o’clock the next morning and made himself an omelet (which he ate with gusto) before showering and then dressing for the day. Sousuke wanted to arrive and speak with the manager before the morning rush, so he hopped on his restored motorcycle (a graduation gift from his father) and sped off; making sure his GPS was on this time. There were a couple of other customers milling about, but it hadn’t really picked up yet, so Sousuke went over to the front counter.

“Nagisa.”

“I didn’t do it!” He yelled instinctively, crouching under the counter.

“Didn’t do what?” Sousuke furrowed his brows. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. I need to talk to your manager.”

Nagisa waggled his eyebrows. “About what? Are the two of you having a sordid love affair?”

“Yes,” Sousuke said, completely poker-faced. The other man scrutinized him for a long moment before turning around.

“Hey Kisu-chan, your lover’s here!” He shouted, either completely oblivious to or disregarding the dirty looks the customers shot him. The manager sauntered out of his office, sporting a nametag that read “bubblegum babe” in bubble letters.

“Sousuke-kun!” Kisumi waved jauntily to the other man, half a croissant sticking out of his mouth. Sousuke returned the greeting with a short nod and a brief smile.

“I have something I need to ask you.”

“Oh, Sousuke-kun, you don’t need to ask. It’s obvious that you have a crush on me. That’s why you’re in here all the time, isn’t it?” Kisumi winked at him. Sousuke choked on air. “Relax, I’m kidding! Everyone who’s ever seen you interact with Kou-chan for more than five seconds knows that you’re smitten.”

“It’s not _that_ obvious,” Sousuke argued.

“Yesterday you walked right into the door because you were too busy looking at Kou-chan to remember to open it,” Kisumi countered, and the reminder of that made Nagisa laugh so hard he doubled over. Sousuke’s entire face turned the colour of a tomato.

“Okay, I do like her. That’s what I needed to ask you about.”

“You don’t need _my_ permission to date her. I’m her manager, not her dad.” Sousuke didn’t bother to respond to that.

“I need you to have Kou let me in after it closes on Monday next week.” Kisumi raised a perfectly arched brow.

“And why would I do that?”

“I want to do something for Kou.” Kisumi grinned lewdly.

“There will be no sex in my establishment, Sousuke-kun.”

“What about that one time when—” Kisumi hastily slapped a hand over Nagisa’s mouth. “ _Anyways!_ What are you planning?” Sousuke gave him an unimpressed look but continued as if Nagisa had merely been talking about the weather.

“I was thinking of bringing my guitar and singing her a song that shows how much she’s come to mean to me.”

“Smooth,” Kisumi said. “But you could make it even better by buying her flowers and her favourite meal.”

“Kisu-chan, you’re such a romantic!” Nagisa pretended to swoon and Kisumi pinched his upper arm.

“I don’t even know what kind of flowers she likes,” Sousuke said, rubbing his temples. “Or what her favourite meal is.”

“Kou-chan likes tiger lilies and steamed pork dumplings,” Nagisa chimed in. Sousuke regarded him suspiciously. “How do you know that?”

“There’s no need to be _jealous_ , Sou-chan—”

“Who said I was jealous? I only—”

“ _Alright_ , time to get back to work! I can give you half an hour on Monday night. That work for you?” Kisumi steered Nagisa back to his position at the register, ignoring his protests that Kisumi was a tyrannical manager.

“That’s more than enough…thank you.”

The rest of the week passed by very slowly, which Sousuke was grateful for. It gave him enough time to get everything together and work on his English pronunciation when he was singing, which improved steadily. By the time Monday rolled around, everything had fallen into place. He had picked up the flowers from the florist’s already as well as placed the order for steamed pork buns. His guitar sat in its case in the bus seat next to him. He’d refused to leave it in the overhead rack. It was a relatively short bus ride, half an hour at most, and Sousuke used the time to steady his nerves. He slung the strap of his guitar case over his (good) shoulder while clutching the bouquet of tiger lilies in his other hand and disembarked from the bus, using the GPS on his phone to locate the place where he’d placed the order. Once he’d picked the dumplings up and tucked them under the crook of his arm, Sousuke set off to Starbucks, getting there just two minutes before closing. He let himself in. The only other person still there was Kou, playing Love Live on her phone behind the counter.

“I’m sorry, but we’re closed,” she said, not looking up—her combo was too important for that.

“Kisumi made an exception for me.” Kou dropped her phone on the counter’s surface.

“Sousuke?”

“Surprise,” he said weakly. She didn’t sound happy, rather, she sounded angry.

“Why didn’t you respond to any of my texts?” Her arms were crossed over her chest and she was frowning. He swallowed hard.

“I was working on something, Kou, I told you that.” She bit her lip and took a step back.

“I didn’t realize you meant every hour of every day.” His stomach churned. This wasn’t at all how he’d envisioned tonight going.

“I was working on something for _you,_ ” Sousuke blurted, watching as the anger dissipated from her face and left curiosity in its wake.

“Can I see it?” He made an affirmative noise and chose a barstool to sit in, taking his guitar out as carefully as a mother picked up her baby.

“One of my favourite bands is English, too. They’re called Arctic Monkeys, and I wanted to play one of their songs for you, because, well—because it reminded me of you.” Her eyes lit up.

“Oh? What’s it called?” He scratched the back of his neck; it was a nervous habit of his from childhood that he’d never grown out of.

“I Wanna Be Yours.” Sousuke looked at the floor to avoid meeting her eyes and began to strum the first chords. “I wanna be your vacuum cleaner, breathing in your dust. I wanna be your Ford Cortina; I won't ever rust.” His voice was a rich baritone and Kou was riveted. “If you like your coffee hot, let me be your coffee pot. You call the shots, babe; I just wanna be yours.”

Her cheeks were hot but she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. This was the most heartfelt and intimate thing anyone had ever done for her and it made it even better that Sousuke had been the one to do it.

“How was that?” He asked, looking up at last after he’d finished the song. Her eyes were brimming with tears. Sousuke was horrified. “Was I _that_ bad?” She laughed, airy and light, and fisted her hand in his shirt.

“Shut up and kiss me, you idiot.” He did.


End file.
